The Mirrormask
by Soicalyx
Summary: Won't you come in and hear a story? Though the eye cannot see, the ear...the ear can hear the music that the world plays. A doctor, a tragedy, a mask, and the miracle of song. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hello, this is Elles, after such a terrible absence. I want to continue my second story, I truly do…but I'm losing the person who inspired the piece. I can't touch that story until I'm able to cope emotionally with that. But, since I know some of you out there liked it…I thought it might be a good idea to introduce a different concept and a new story while I gather myself. This is only the prologue to something I've mulled over, and I await your thoughts eagerly. I apologize for the brevity, but I like how it turned out.

Disclaimer: In this transient world, we don't even own ourselves…hmm, that's kind of deep in an annoying way…

* * *

Well, hello. I wasn't quite expecting company on a day like this. It's getting chilly outside and dark clouds have been forming since this morning. I'd say it's likely to either hail or snow terribly any time now. 

Do come in, won't you? If you could please close the door behind you…yes, I'd rather not have a draft in here. Not on a winter's day like today. I'm sorry I haven't been a very diligent housekeeper today. I've had too much on my mind, and haven't so much as made up a fire.

But come into the study with me. I'll make one up in there, have you warm as toast in no time. I've already made some of that peppermint tea you're so very keen on and I don't mind sharing with you. Yes, yes, right through there. Please make yourself at home—there's that old stuffed chair you're fond of, sit right there while I get the fire going.

What? Of course you're not imposing. No more of this polite rubbish between us, yes? It is cold and it would be inhuman of me to make you leave, so the least I can do is make us both comfortable while we are in one another's company.

Ah, thank you for pouring the tea. Just leave my cup by the stand next to my chair and I'll be along. My back isn't what it used to be, and it takes me a little time to stand back up.

There we are. Fire, tea, and fine company. My evening has improved greatly, I'm in great spirits.

Hmm? You came for a story, I suppose? Well it's not too hard a task to wheedle one from me on a night like this. Shall I tell you a historical account of the crusades or of the Battle at Hastings of 1066?

Now don't make that face, I was only teasing. Very well, then. You've heard fables and Grimms and Aesops and even mystic tales from far away—the Rose and the Nightingale is a favorite of yours, shall I tell it again?

Something new then? I have had a story in mind for quite some time…perhaps now is just the time to tell it. It is a history, indeed it is, but I guarantee it will not bore. How could it, when I have always kept it close in my heart, as have all who have heard it? For better or worse, those who hear the tale never forget it. Would you like to hear it still?

All right, just let me take another sip of tea and we shall begin, for it is a rather long story. Mm, still warm and slightly bittersweet. Now where was I?

Oh, yes…I think I shall proceed at the beginning and end at the end…with a man. No, not quite a man yet…_There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy. They say he wandered very far, very far, over land and sea….A little shy and sad of eye--but very wise was he… _

And then one day, a magic day, he passed my way…and while we spoke of many things—fools and kings—this he said to me:

_"The greatest thing you'll ever learn  
Is just to love and be loved in return"_

Do you want to hear the rest, curious creature?

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading, even though I've been away so long. It means a great deal.

PS- the song here should be familiar to most...much love to David Bowie (it's his version in my head, from MR)


	2. All that's best in dark and bright

AN: I'm very sorry for the delay! It's been a very hectic time for me—everything in my life seems to be changing, and I had to wait for a pause before I could start this again. I hope you enjoy this new story and leave a review! It'll certainly inspire me to work hard.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, it would be a very different world indeed.

* * *

**This story must begin in a city. Like all cities, it is full of people—too full, I personally believe. A city is nothing but cold architecture and people too busy with themselves, their own lives, to see anyone else struggling.**

**Ah, but I am rambling off-topic. The city, yes. Well … city is like any other city, save for its weather. You see, the rainy season lasts for a good while. Gray clouds and chill winds are near everyday normality for this city. Yes, grey skyscrapers and gray skies…and sometimes, beautiful and blinding white snow—mostly in winter. It is in this lonely, rainy world that the story begins…**

"The eye is a delicate organ, requiring extreme care before, during and after a surgical procedure. Slide, please."

The lecturer spoke clearly, laser pointer in one hand and gripping the podium with the other. Medical students lined the rows of seats in the auditorium, their pens scraping away at pads of paper as he spoke. The slide just beyond him shifted to a photograph of a patient under anesthesia, with a surgeon about to take up the scalpel. The lecturer continued.

"An expert ophthalmologist must identify the need for specific procedure and be responsible for conducting the procedure safely. Many university programs allow patients to specify if they want to be operated upon by the consultant or the resident fellow." Here he paused, and for the first time acknowledged the students. They paused their note taking, watching as he seemed to look at them and then somewhere beyond for a moment. No one else seemed to notice, but in the lecturer's eyes there was a flicker. A shadow.

"What this means is…" he spoke slowly, as if trying to find the right words. "Imagine a patient who used to see, but cannot any longer. There is an anguish that we cannot experience. A loss of color and light, sure. But also, a genuine sense of betrayal."

He stood away from the podium, and looked out to the audience. His hands raised slightly, almost a plea. "We have five senses. You know them as well as I do. But we are sight-oriented at birth. For most, it is the primary sense. This is why loss of it leaves us stumbling and afraid. But for some, there is hope. Should any of you decide to specialize within the field, it is in your best interest to never give false hope—a patient may never recover."

There was a silence, heavy and full of a sense of responsibility. And then, realizing how he'd turned away from the intended topic of his lecture, Nadir cleared his throat. "Next slide, please."

* * *

….

It was only at the end of the lecture, when the students had gone and the projectionist dismissed, that the shadow emerged from his hiding place at the back of the auditorium.

"You lost the room for a minute there, Kahn." He quipped. Nadir shrugged as he piled his lecture notes neatly into his briefcase.

"It's not my field of study. You know that." He heaved a sigh and locked his brown eyes with crystal green ones. "I was asked to cover this lecture for a friend, and I owed her one. Otherwise I'd be very content in my office with some lovely lady interested in breast augmentation."

"Yet you took this lecture and took pains to invite me. Now why is that?" The shadow took a step forward, his fine leather shoes making no noise on the floor. He showed no surprise when Nadir slid a manila folder from his briefcase and held it out to him. "No," he said simply.

"Just look at the.."

Nadir could not finish the his sentence before his visitor turned his back, intent on walking away. "Just look at the file name, for pity's sake!" He cried.

"I'm done." The shadow said, turning to face Nadir. His eyes sparked with a fire all their own, even as his voice sounded tired and quiet.

"I'm done, Nadir. I don't think I can make it any clearer. I …the rest of my life is not going to be devoted to curing the people of the world, just so they may toss their new livers away on alcohol or their new lungs on cigarettes. I'm sick, inside and out, with it!" As he spoke, his gloved hands seemed to clench hard as if to will away such thoughts.

"I am sorry…," Nadir began, taking the steps necessary to be at arm's length from his visitor. "I cannot condone what you've had to face, what you must yet face, but I did not ask you here hoping to redeem humanity in your eyes. My friend, I wanted you to read this file."

He held out the manila folder to his friend. The dark man's eyes narrowed a moment, before taking the file at last. He flipped it open and scanned the name. Nadir noticed the almost imperceptible widening of his eyes.

"When?" He finally asked.

"Same time as Augustan. They were in the same car, four months ago." Nadir replied easily.

"Surgery?"

"Two. An attempt to drain the vitreous humor that failed and a surgery to remove splints from the right ankle." Nadir could quote readily from her file. He had spent time pouring over it. "She'll be here today…if you want to see for yourself."

"So you haven't given up hope. Perhaps you should," he replied, closing the file. "After two surgeries on top of everything she's had to lose, it might be best if she learned to live with it." He smiled ruefully as he set the folder down on a folded audience chair. "What's so blessedly wonderful about being able to see, anyhow? It certainly never made my life any easier."

"Erik!" Nadir shouted, temper at last flaring at his visitor's comment. But it was of no use; Erik was already walking away, determined not to have anything to do with the patient—no matter who she was.

* * *

….

"Why am I here?"

In the solitary corridor, her question and Mrs. Giry's steps as they made their way were the only sounds to be heard. The wheelchair that Mrs. Giry pushed was soundless.

"We're here so that Dr. Kahn can give you a proper check-up." Mrs. Giry reminded her primly.

"But we're not on the fifth floor." She mused. For a quick moment Mrs. Giry was taken off-guard by response, but recovered before answering.

"Yes, we'll be at the top floor today. It's mainly used for research, but Dr. Kahn insisted…"

Her patient's hands, which had been neatly folded on her lap, slid to the armrests. "Really, Mrs. Giry, I think I could—"

But Mrs. Giry continued to drive her chair. "Your dear parents didn't ask me to watch over you to just to have you spraining your ankle by tripping on things…" she dropped the rest of her tirade quietly, knowing that the girl understood.

Quietly the girl folded her hands once more. She knew it was for the best. If she were to further injure herself it would only cause her loved ones to worry further.

"All right, Mrs. Giry," she said, and allowed herself to be wheeled into room 900 without further insistence.

……….

* * *

Erik had left the hospital for a very short while, after the death of its owner, and he felt _pulled_ to his old office—still his a little longer. And so he didn't leave. He side stepped out to the service side and pulled out his identification. Briefly he held it to a black screen above the door where it clicked open.

He knew this route to the service elevator, and knew that only one id tag would open the door to it. This corridor and this elevator was his, taking him straight to his office. Augustan had understood his need to be alone—as alone as he could be, at least—and this had been their compromise.

But it was all over. Augustan would not return to the hospital, and once he had packed his things neither would Erik.

The finality of these thoughts threatened to consume him as he rode that silent elevator. He was always alone. He'd preferred it. But the man had been generous; he would not expect to meet his equal again in this lifetime.

The elevator doors swished open and he quickly stepped out. He pulled out his key, and looked at his door. It bore no special marking indicating it as his, but it was not assigned a number either. It was a solid, dark wood door that had allowed him to shut himself away as he worked, keeping himself from dealing with the patients as much as possible.

After all, how many would trust the hands of a disfigured man?

Another bitter smirk made its way to his features as he unlocked the door and stepped inside his office. It was dark—dark cherry wood was chosen for the desk and bookshelves, and two fine chairs made of black leather and placed on the hardwood floor—and it suited him. The only sources of light in the room where a lamp that was currently off and a large window that he had draped a dark burgundy curtain over.

Turning slightly he was about to turn on the nearby lamp when something caught his attention. On the other side of the bookcase there was a door, meant to be used only if a patient absolutely had to be seen by Erik. Only then would he unlock the door between his private office and the only exam room on this floor.

The door was unlocked to room 900.

_Nadir_, he cursed inwardly. Only he could have done it.

Erik moved closer to the door in order to lock it, wondering what Nadir had hoped to achieve with this tactic. Then he heard to door to room 900 open, and froze.

"Here we are."

He registered the sound of the older woman's voice. He had met her once, through Augustan…

"Oh, it's dark in here, isn't it? And no one is here, no nurse or Dr. Kahn…perhaps he's in the study..?"

Erik could have wrung Kahn's neck for this! With a mental curse he did the only thing he could think of. He dove, quickly and quietly, behind the curtain just as he heard her approach.

Without a breath he heard her step in, looking around. Mrs. Giry stood there, and somehow thought this did not seem like the sort of office Dr. Kahn might have. It was…not welcoming enough. Perhaps because it was so dark?

Her hand was about to reach for the lamp as well, when she heard a sudden rumble of strong thunder. Then, like a mother cat, she rushed to her patient's side, much to Erik's relief.

"Christine, are you all right?" He heard her ask quietly. And then he heard the soft reply.

"Yes, very well, Mrs. Giry. Is it going to rain?" It asked.

"I suppose so…I should find this Dr. Kahn and have the car come around to the front to meet us once we're done." Mrs. Giry sighed. Again there was another roll of thunder, and a sudden wash of rain began. "Will you be all right, _cherie_? I'll be back quickly."

"Yes, I'll be quite fine. I'm not afraid of the dark anymore," her sweet voice reminded her.

Erik listened intently to the brief quiet, before hearing Mrs. Giry's footsteps and the exam room door close. Then, carefully, he slipped to the open door in his office. He saw the chair, pointed towards the window, and her dark curls just above that. She was quiet, observing the rain she could not sense.

And even though she had said she was not afraid, Erik could tell with a glance that it was untrue. She held her head too high and braced her armrests. At any sound of thunder she gripped them slightly. She was afraid.

_"In the velvet darkness, of the blackest night…_" her quiet voice began to speak, and Erik found his ears readily listening. _"Burning bright…there's a guiding star."_

She smiled as she spoke to herself, imagining such a light encompassing her room. Erik, for his part, stood still. Her words had some enveloping effect upon him.

_"No matter what…or…who you are…"_ Her feet touched the floor, and she found the strength to lift herself from the seat of her chair. Erik could not help watching.

_"There's a light,_" she sang, _"there's a light…in the darkness of everybody's life…"_

He watched her, this young lady who stood so shakily and sang gently. And something stirred painfully. He knew her thoughts. She didn't even need to voice them.

His hand raised itself to his chest, gripping his dark shirt slightly. He saw her in the dark, and he could see himself.

_Darkness must flow down the river of night's dreaming,_ Erik knew the words and could sing them if only he knew she wouldn't hear. _Flow Morpheus, slow, let the sun and light come streaming into my life…_

_"There's a light…"_

_Into my life…_

Her cry of surprise brought them back to reality. Unused to standing, she had wavered too far and lost balance. She cried out as she felt herself fall, only to feel suddenly braced.

Her soft white hands were the first to react. They touched the arm wrapped around her waist before thanking Mrs. Giry. The name was on her tongue, even as she felt that it was a very strong arm that held her. Not Mrs. Giry.

"Are you all right?" The voice filled her ears and seemed to overload them. For a moment she could not respond, only further touch the arm that held her. For a moment, her fingertips grazed skin. Then she felt herself being lifted quite suddenly and placed back into her wheelchair.

Erik had caught her from behind, moving just in time to keep her from injuring herself. But the prolonged touch was too much, and he had to pull away as soon as possible. Placing her into her chair, he raised his eyes and looked at her, _really looked_, for the first time.

"Yes, thank you. I'm still healing from surgery."

She wore a simple blue skirt and soft white sweater, her long chocolate curls falling free. Her mouth, petal pink, shyly offered a smile for him. But it was her eyes that captivated his attention.

The milky gray irises looked at him, and past him, into nothing.

"I'm Christine," she said, holding out a slender hand for his. Erik looked at it a moment, then pulled the glove free from his hand. He felt her hand, and took it in a soft grip.

"Erik."

* * *

AN: REVIEW, please! Also, I hope that by now you can see that this will be a musical. The song is from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, 'There's A Light (Over at the Frankenstein Place)' Let me know what you think! I really appreciate it! Review and stay tuned, because I'm back! 


	3. The eyes

AN: Sorry for the delay. I've been setting up house and hitting all manner of writer's block. But I'm satisfied with this chapter and hope it meets with your approval! REVIEW!

Disclaimer: I don't even own a nice pair of jeans, come on now...

* * *

He watched her smile widen slightly, her lips part as her sightless eyes still searched for the origin of his voice.

"Erik," she repeated. Her hand held his a moment longer in a touch of appreciation before setting it free. "I didn't hear anyone open the door."

"It was left open," he lied. Erik was good at thinking on his feet—a lifetime of necessity had taught him well. He watched her, who could not see him, with a kind of hungry greed.

She was smiling. She did not know who he was, other than a name and an action. She could not see him. And so he observed her, everything he could. Her cheek and her complexion and her curls. Even those veiled eyes.

"What are you doing in my exam room, Erik?" She asked. "Not that I'm complaining—I'm grateful for your help just then."

Her tone was gentle; she wasn't wary of him. Apparently he'd given her no reason to be. His eavesdropping had gone undetected.

"I'm Dr. Kahn's assistant," he lied. "I observe and assist some of his patients, when he's too busy to do it himself."

Christine nodded her head. "So I suppose this means he will not be able to see me himself?"

Erik stood away from the chair, taking a few steps away from her. Beyond her was the sage green medical counter, and on top of it was what curiously looked like her file.

_Sneaky, conniving, old…_ Erik muttered it all in his mind; he'd be sure to keep a list for Nadir to read later. But all the same he picked it up.

"You're here to have your bandage changed and your ankle's progress checked." Erik spoke as a doctor—interested wholly on the specimen. He took from the medical cabinet a bin, solutions, cotton swabs and gloves, new bandages and butterfly clips.

"I can clean and assess just as N- Dr. Kahn would." Erik knelt by her, setting down his equipment. "Is that all right, Christine?"

He saw her smile, but also noticed a remarkable blush. But it was only remarkable for him—he had never caused a blush, not even one born from innocent modesty like hers was. But the reason baffled him. Why would anyone be so nervous with _him_?

"I…," Christine faltered for a moment, "it's nasty. I'm told the surgery was tricky, because of the bone fragments."

"I've seen a great deal in my time…as Dr. Kahn's assistant." He slipped the latex gloves over his hands. His hands reached for her bandaged ankle, touching only the sole of her small black shoe. He paused, watching her for her reaction. If she was too afraid, he would leave her and call for Nadir to fix his mess.

"All right," she murmured, placing her hands gently on her lap. Slowly, taking great care to keep her ankle still, he slipped off the shoe.

He watched her a moment, as he set the shoe down, and raised a hand. He waved it only once, satisfying himself. She did not see. His own eyes turned downward, paying attention to his patient.

Her ankle was wrapped in a white bandage, so gently and carefully as to keep her circulation from being cut. Tugging the clips free, his hand guided the cloth free from her small foot. He was patient and did not hurry this for fear of causing her distress. Christine, for her part, only felt the cool air touch her uncovered skin and the slight embarrassment of what this man, Erik, would see.

Finally Erik pulled away the gauze and looked closely at the stitches covering her ankle. Her skin was a pale cream all along her exposed leg, right until the ankle itself. It was healing, the stitches free of any discharge, but her ankle was still violet and tender.

His gloved hand trailed only lightly with some gauze, patting it with antiseptic. "You shouldn't try to stand on it quite yet, Christine." He allowed a gloved finger to trail down to where a drop of the liquid pooled.

"Is it ugly?" Christine asked in a quiet voice. "Will I be able to stand?"

Both questions seemed absurdly paired together to Erik. Functionality and beauty were not, in his mind, companions. One could be ugly and continue to exist for decades, after all. But he didn't say anything as he stripped away the fresh bandage from its plastic encasing and set about rolling the soft material over her cleaned ankle.

"No, it won't even scar. The surgeon was very careful." Remembering her second question, he added. "And as long as you mind what I said about pushing yourself too hard, I'm sure you'll be walking out of that chair eventually."

"I don't know about that," she admitted. Erik raised his eyes, surprised by her sad response. Her milk-pale eyes…they'd dimmed just a little. Or was it the lighting in the room playing tricks?

His hand pressed only lightly as he clipped the fresh bandage. His eyes had not wandered away from hers. Again, as if he could not believe it, his hand moved once, slowly, over her eyes. But she did not respond.

"Something like this…" Erik tried to say something, which was more than he gave most people. But this was the daughter of a good man, one of the few he'd met—he should have something for her! He'd heard her, seen her struggle even for a moment. He understood.

So why couldn't he find the way to offer comfort to her?

"Yes?" Her question made his eyes snap up to hers. He'd nearly forgotten he'd said anything at all. Quickly, he changed the subject.

"You're scheduled to begin physical therapy as soon as your doctor says you can." Erik said, slipping her shoe back on carefully. He set her foot back, but did not immediately stand again. "It'll be soon. The stitches will likely be out within a week."

That dimness, that look she did not realize she could give, seemed to deepen for a moment. Then she smiled brightly, very brightly.

"Thank you, Erik." She held out her hand again to him. "It's nice to meet you."

He didn't rise, not yet, but he took her hand again. "It's nice to meet you," he echoed. And it was. It was nice to be this close to anyone, much less a girl so…pretty.

"Perhaps I'll see you again." She said, releasing his hand. "Is Dr. Kahn very busy at the hospital?"

He thought about it. Other than lectures and his work in surgery, Nadir was fairly free. Then again, he'd left her unattended and in this exam room for a reason, and Erik did not like falling into plans. And then there was _the girl_.

"If Dr. Kahn permits," he nearly ground out, "I will be the attending for your checkups, Christine."

Her smile widened without a trace of doubt. "Then I will see you in a week."

* * *

"---pretentious, assuming, asinine—"

Nadir sighed, pouring himself a cup of tea and one for his guest. Both were fond of the particular brew, and he was sure he'd need a cup after his tirade ended.

"I don't know what you're grousing about." Nadir interrupted, placing Erik's cup across the desk. "You've been with a lovely girl, one who needs your help."

His guest merely stood glowering. Nadir sighed and sat in his chair, but did not drink his tea. "Her ankle is healing. But it's not her only problem."

"And you believe I can do something about that." Erik finished.

"Don't you?" Nadir raised an eyebrow. "Erik, do you remember why Gustave hired you? The potential he saw in you?"

"I was useful," Erik replied. "And only because I didn't need to see anyone in order to treat them."

"Erik-"

"A backstage player, Nadir." Erik said wearily, sitting down at last. "If I was kept out of sight, there wasn't a body I couldn't diagnose. Because illness doesn't care what you look like. Does it, Nadir?" A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, and he raised his keen eyes to the surgeon's. Those angry, defeated eyes held everything he would not speak; those eyes burned Nadir with their finality.

"Men are idiots, Nadir, and I'm done with them." He shook his head. "All I want is to leave this behind. Gustave is dead, and I've no more reason to continue here. I'm going to go somewhere—anywhere—and live there until I die. Alone."

"I saw Christine," Nadir spoke up. "After you left."

"You were in the hallway?" Erik nearly growled.

"She asked if she could be scheduled with you from now on." Nadir had the desire to smile, but held it in check. Now was not the time. "It seems you made a good impression on her."

Erik remained silent, but a slight widening of his eyes betrayed him. There hadn't been any false words when they'd spoken….she wanted to talk again…

"You're being cruel, Nadir." Erik replied, but there was little bite to his statement. It was true, and both of them knew it. To have someone even slightly resembling a companion, _now_, was…painful for Erik.

"I have to be kind to Christine; it's what we owe Gustave." Nadir replied quietly. At that, Erik's eyes raised to meet his.

"And what is owed to me?" He wondered quietly. And they were quiet a moment. Neither could answer; one felt sorry for it, but the other felt only weary anger.

_"No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man__…"_ Erik's voice was quiet, so withdrawn that it almost masked the bitterness.

"Erik-"

_"To be the sad man b__ehind blue eyes.__"_ His voice seemed to echo as he carried on, trapping Nadir in the sound. Erik moved forward, his crystal eyes peering. "_And no one knows what it'__s like to be hated, to be fated, __to telling only lies__!"_

He softened for a moment, and thought about how she'd held his hand in hers. He thought about the dimness and light in her blinded eyes, and he felt a tireless ache. Nadir could only watch as he continued.

_"B__ut my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscious seems to be.__"_ Who was he trying to reassure? Himself, or the man who'd put him in this situation?

"What are your dreams, Erik?" Nadir pressed. "Not this escape you have planned for yourself—your real dreams." He wanted to know, wanted the man to say it. But the moment passed.

Erik shot up out of his chair and stalked to the window. He pressed his palms to the cool glass pane and looked below.

She was being wheeled towards a black car by the matronly woman. The rain had stopped, and he could see her just barely, but it was enough. _Christine…_

_"__No one knows what it'__s like, __t__o feel these feelings like I do…"_ He gripped his shirtfront tight in his fist for a moment before slamming his fist on the thick pane." A_nd I blame you!"_ Everyone—God, Gustave, Nadir—they were all behind the echo of his fist against the glass he could not break through. "_A__nd no one b__ites back as hard on their anger,"_ He pulled away, shaking himself away from the window. "_N__one of my pain, no, it can't show through__…"_

_"But your dreams, they aren't as empty,"_ Nadir assured him, _"as your conscious seems to be._"

They both looked at each other quietly, and this time it was Erik who looked away first.

_"_I have hours….only lonely," He muttered. "Always alone, even in the company of others." He sighed and his shoulders dropped. "I'll keep any appointments she makes. I do owe Gustave that much. But don't ask any more of me."

Nadir nodded. It was a start.

* * *

So, Nadir's got them together, but Erik's not about to help Christine. To find out why--stay tuned!

REVIEW? Please? I swear, I need a little encouragement right about now :)


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